Nightmare
by a1b2c3d4e5f6g7h8
Summary: Trapped in a place that she never wished to see, Heather faces her former self; who wishes to exact her own kind of sick justice.


This story was not written by me. It was written by MercilessAngelsNeverCry( ), as a request made by me.

**Nightmare**

Cold sweat trickled down the nape of her neck. Each step echoed and created more fear to settle within her chest. The ragged breathing that escaped her lips was the only sound that rang in her ears. Heather gazed at the walls as she walked past, the white tiles covered in rust and blood. Both legs moved without her command and led her towards a metal door. She raised her arm by instinct and pushed it open.

The door creaked shut once she stood inside. Her eyes were glued to the hospital bed that lay before her. The paint on the walls were slaking and streaked in red. As she stared at the stained sheets her skin flared, as if on fire, burning her and melting flesh. She howled in agony, clawing at her face, but when she looked down at her arms she saw nothing. As the phantom flames licked at her skin, droplets fell from the ceiling.

In the midst of her anguish, she managed to unclench her eyes and glance up. There was no ceiling, only a vast expanse of darkness and emptiness. Rain pelted down, giving a brief respite to the tiny patches of skin that they hit off of. Suddenly the pain stopped. Heather touched her cheeks delicately with shaking fingers, and hissed once the tips brushed off against torn flesh. The blood mixed in with her sweat and tears.

Laughter rang within the four walls surrounding her; soft and playful. Heather squints to focus her sight as she peers up into the darkness, trying to find the cause of the laughter. It takes several moments but eventually a large face appeared. Porcelain skin, high cheekbones, raven black hair spilling over her icy blue eyes. A sadistic smile teased her thin lips and Heather shivered. Although her face gave her the appearance of someone older than Heather, there was no denying who it was once she saw that all too familiar purple plaid dress. Herself. Seventeen years ago. Alessa.

"What do you want?" Heather yelled, her voice frail and hoarse.

Alessa's smile grew wider. "To cease the existence of my foolish self." She was standing over, what Heather imagined to be, twenty feet tall. She slowly knelt down, her face almost covering the area where a ceiling should be. She flashed her pristine white teeth and with that flames erupted in the sick room.

Heather turned and pulled helplessly at the door, the ends of her clothes becoming scorched and her hair sticking to her forehead from all the sweat. She glanced up to see what Alessa was doing and her efforts to escape became more frantic as Alessa raised a hand and barbed wire came out from under the cuff of her sleeve. The wire wrapped around her writs, arms, neck, thighs and ankles. They bit into her skin, tearing it into ribbons and lifted her up. Heather squirmed and made a feeble attempt to wrench free, the only award she got was the barbs digging in deeper into her. The howls of the Otherworld sang in chorus with Alessa's laughter.

The wires led her to the bed where they strapped her down, disabling her of any possible movement. Heather's only option was to look up at her former self's face. Alessa's smile grew wider, the corners of her mouth splitting open so that Heather could see the back row of teeth. Heather watched helplessly as tendrils of blood slowly stained those large white teeth, making a squelching noise as they passed between the tight crevices between each tooth.

Lifting up her shirt to expose Heather's stomach, Alessa's eyes glimmered in delight as she stroked the soft skin with one of the barbed wires. "There's no need to struggle," she giggled. "You know what has to be done."

"Please!" Heather screamed. Splitting open her stomach with the sharp end of the wire, Alessa dug deeper and deeper, scraping and jerking at her insides. The flames lapped relentlessly at her skin, her short blonde hair almost completely burnt. Blisters formed and bubbled all over and it didn't take long until Heather lost all her eyesight, her eyes turned milky. Screams turned into gargles and the only thing in Heather's existence at that moment was agony. Sheer unrelenting agony that ripped her to her very core. Each wave was fiercer and sharper and more vicious than the last. The sweet laughter turned into a harsh cackle, and for a moment Heather thought that it was her "real" mother, Dahlia.

She didn't know when or how the wire had come out of her until her own blood dripped onto her ruined face. Even though she couldn't see anymore, she could still picture that porcelain face staring down at her, satisfied that the monster had finally been destroyed.


End file.
